The Rise Of The Rider
by Phoenix-Magic
Summary: Edwin was caught in Urû'baen during the Vardens' war for peace, and he-in the end-fought for thhe Varden. However, because of this decision he lost everything-family, home and possessions. He lives on the streets, and is slowly dying when he is found by a werecat who see's a potential dragon rider in him. Can Edwin's life be changed...and if so, will it be for better or for worse?
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Message-Thank you for reading this! I will update as often as I can. Please leave a comment saying if you like it, and even leave one if you don't. I would like to read feedback from you, as we are all here to improve, aren't we? Even if no one reads this, I will write it until it is finished. I know not much happens in this chapter, but what do you expect? It's the first of many!**

**(Disclaimer-I do not own any of the characters from the Inheritance series, and any mentioned or featured in this entire story belong to Christopher Paolini)**

Edwin sat on the corner of the street near the entrance to Urû'baen-or Ilirea, whatever name it was going by now-and watched the people stride past him without a care in the world. Rich and poor alike marched past him, ignoring the small cup in his hand which containing a pitifully few copper coins-all he owned in the world. He stared up at them with his wide blue eyes, barely visible underneath his shock of black hair.

He shook the cup weakly once more to try and grab the attention of the passing nobles. When they ignored him, he leant back against the wall, placed the cup on the ground and kneaded his eyes with his hands. It didn't used to be like this! When the Varden attacked Urû'baen-him home-his house had been utterly destroyed. He wasn't sure what by-probably one of the dragons-because he hadn't been in the house at the time. He had taken his fathers' sword and run out into the battle, despite his parent's protests. At first he had fought for his home, against the traitorous Varden, but then he saw Barst fall. He fell...to Roran Stronghammer. How?

He had heard of Stronghammer before...he was the cousin of Eragon Shadeslayer himself. That wasn't why he was famous though...he was a formidable warrior and stout hearted man. When Edwin had seen him slay Barst, he no longer doubted these rumours were true. He had immediately started fighting for the Varden...become a turncoat.

Once the battle was over and a mighty explosion shattered the citadel Galbatorix hid himself in, Edwin had swiftly returned to his house to find it collapsed on itself. He tried digging through the rubble and remains, but to no avail. He found Sadia first-his three year old sister, crushed under the rubble. She looked like she was just sleeping. He found his parent's next-they were in the same area as Sadia had been in, so they were probably with her at the end.

He cursed himself silently, and removed his hands from his eyes, trying to forget his memory. He was shocked and ashamed to find tears rolling silently down his cheeks, and quickly wiped them away with his dirt encrusted hands. He studied his harsh hands-they were covered with filth that he was sure would never wash off and his fingernails were short and ragged. They were covered with sores and calluses.

_You ought to clean your hands once in a while_ said a strange voice inside his head. He looked up, startled, and hit himself on the temple. He truly was going mad. There was no one even near him anymore-eventually everyone avoided him-and anyway, the voice had sounded as though it came from inside his head. He had heard that magicians could talk to people like that...but why would a magician talk to him?

He lowered his head again, already closing is eyes, when he heard it again. _It's rude to ignore those who try to talk to you. _

He jumped up in his shock, his bare feet stinging as they connected with the floor again. He had sold his shoes for food long ago. He yelled inside his mind _where are you?_

A lean brown cat with black tufts on its ears emerged from a nearby alleyway. Its ears flicked. _No need to shout. I'm right here._

Edwin peered at the cat. _You? Are you the cat?_

_Yes. Well done, you caught on quicker than some people do._

_You talk to other people?_

_Yes_.

_But..._Edwin frowned. _You're a cat...cat's don't talk._

The cat flicked his tail in annoyance. _I am not just a cat...I am a werecat. I am one of a kind that fought for the freedom of your kind as well as others in the war against Galbatorix._ The werecat bared its sharp white teeth. _Unlike some people, we fought, and we died._

Edwin bristled. _Are you implying I didn't fight? Well I did, and I lost everything for fighting. The war against the King brought nothing for me, other than suffering._

The cat looked at him, its head cocked slightly. _I apologise. I didn't realise you lost much. I jumped to conclusions, and for that I am sorry._

_I accept your apology...just don't do it again. Please._ Edwin sat down again, already weak from standing to talk to the werecat.

_I am glad you accepted my apology because that was probably going to be the only time you ever heard me admit I was wrong._ The cat padded towards Edwin and sat by him, licking its paw.

Edwin grinned slightly at a thought. _Well...if I ever see you again in the future and you admit you are wrong about something...then you will effectively be admitting what you just said was wrong, and you will have admitted you were wrong three times to me._

The werecat looked at him curiously, pausing in its job of cleaning its paw. _Talking with you is like talking with a certain...herbalist I know._

_And with is that like?_

_...interesting._ It resumed the cleaning of its paw.

Edwin grinned mentally, too weak to physically smile. He hadn't had food for over a week now...he was going to buy some the other day, but he had been mugged and all his money taken from him. His last drink had been about two days ago, when it last rained. He really shouldn't have stood up...it had taken the last of his precious strength.

The cat looked at him, startled. _How are you so weak, child?_

He mentally shrugged. _I am not a child._

_You are in my eyes._ The werecat jumped onto Edwins' chest, and the pressure on him chest knocked his breath away. His eyes flickered.

_I can help you child...if you do something for me in return_. The werecat whispered. His mind probed Edwin's, but Edwin was too weak to care. The werecat nodded, as if confirming something with himself. Edwin didn't notice.

_What do you want?_ He asked.

_You need to go to the centre of Ilirea as soon as you have the strength. There, you will wait until tomorrow._

_But..._Edwin protested, _I can't go there! Queen Arya of the elves is there tomorrow, with the eggs of the dragons. They are finding new riders. I can't interrupt!_

_You can, and you must!_ Growled the werecat. _Get there early, and talk to Arya. _Edwins' eyes widened as he heard the werecat call the elfin queen by her name and not her title. _She will listen to you... she has a kind soul, especially towards children such as you._

_I am not a child..._his eyes shut slowly.

_Tell her I sent you._ The cat growled, trying to keep Edwin awake.

_Who...who are you?_ Edwin asked weakly. _What shall I tell her?_

_Just tell her that I sent you. Then tell her that you came from the streets, and were affected by the war. _

_But..._Edwin protested weakly. _Who are you? Who shall I say sent me?_

Strength poured from the werecat into Edwin, filling him, speeding his slowing heart, soothing his aching head. He gasped at the strength of the werecat, the endless power that came from him. He absorbed the energy thankfully, and it filled him to the brim.

_Tell her that Solembum sent you._ The cat replied, before muttering something that Edwin didn't quite catch. Edwin opened his mouth to ask what Solembum had said, but his eyes dropped and he fell into the first peaceful sleep he had had since the war.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I know not much has happened so far, but bear with me. I was going to write more in this chapter, but decided to end it where it ends to keep you guy in a bit more suspense. Don't worry thoug, the second this goes up, I am starting work on the next chapter!**_

_**Disclaimer-I do not own any of the characters in this story, they belong to Christopher Paolini.**_

* * *

Edwin's eyes snapped open . He was laying in the street, exactly where he had been before...before...before what?

_Oh_ he thought. _Before the werecat._ He struggled to remember what the werecat had told him to do. _What was it?_ He wondered.

He stood, and immediately noticed how easy it was for him to stand. How effortless. Like...normal people...people who had enough strength. He grinned widely. The werecat had done it! He wasn't sure what it-he-had done, though.

He suddenly remembered what the werecat had told him to do...it wanted him to go and see Queen Arya. He shook his head, bemused. He didn't understand why the cat wanted him to go to see the Queen. He might as well have told Edwin to go to the Beor's and dance among the dwarves while Queen Nasuada was having a meeting with their Clan Chiefs. Impossible. But...the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. Why _couldn't_ he go to see queen Arya? She was here to see the people of Ilirea, and he was one of them. By every right, he was allowed to go and try for the dragon eggs. He hadn't thought about doing it before, because he was too weak to even think of moving.

He grinned. Why not? Why not try? It couldn't really do anything to harm him. If it failed then he could just use up the energy Solembum gave him...he could start over. Get a job this time, instead of begging...earn money, live a life. He didn't have to die on the streets, which was the fate he had appointed on himself long ago. Solembum had given him a new life-he couldn't ask for more.

And if the dragon eggs didn't fail...if one hatched for him...that was too much for him to think about. It was unlikely one would hatch for him...nigh on impossible. But one thing he knew about werecats, was that they always do things for a reason. He just needed to work out the reason that Solembum decided that he was worth saving. He realised with a shock that he owed his life to a cat...a cat! He laughed and shook his head.

He realised he didn't know how long he had slept...had he already missed Queen Arya? He looked up and down the street, but saw no one apart from one passing traveller. Without thinking, he grabbed the arm of the traveller, realising a bit too late that it was one of the nobles of the city, Lord Arkwrite. Lord Arkwrite had been a strong follower of Galbatorix...he worshiped the man. Edwin was surprised that he hadn't moved out of the city yet, for the anger that he must have felt towards the Varden would have surely driven him out of Ilirea. Edwin had seen him passing before, when Galbatorix ruled and his family lived. He hadn't quite bowed in time, and had received a thrashing and a threat that he would be sold into slavery. Queen Nasuada had robbed him of his title, but Edwin still thought of him as a lord. And he had just grabbed this man's sleeve.

The man turned on him in an instant, bringing up his hand to strike Edwin. He backhanded Edwin across the face, knocking him to the floor. "You impertinent brat!" he yelled, in his strangely high pitched voice. "How DARE you grab at me? You are a pathetic beggar, and you dare grab me?" he spat at Edwin.

"I...I'm sorry sir...I...I...didn't realise it was you s-sir...please forgive me sir..." Edwin stuttered hurriedly. He could only be thankful that Arkwrite hadn't come along yesterday, when he had been physically incapable of standing.

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" he roared. "First the Varden come along and destroy our city, our laws and our king, and then stupid street rats have the impertinence to rub their dirty hands all over me! You have no rights boy, no matter what those Varden say! They are just a rebel group and that's all they ever will be!" he raised his hand to strike Edwin again.

Edwin snatched his hand up and deflected the blow with his arm. He rose and grabbed Arkwrite's arm, twisting it up behind his back.

"How dare you!" Arkwrite screamed. "You brat! You have no rights! You are no one!" he struggled to release himself, and Edwin pulled his hand up further, relishing the thought that he wouldn't get punished by the king's soldiers. The king was dead! Long live the Queen!

He stood on his toes to reach Arkwrite's ear-Arkwrite was a good six foot tall, and Edwin was only young and stood at just over five foot. He whispered in Arkwrite's ear "Long live the Queen."

Arkwrite howled at him, infuriated that such a young street rat would challenge him so.

However, Edwin had a dilemma. If he let Arkwrite go, the man could tear him to pieces with his bare hands. But he needed to get to the dragon eggs...he could tell by the sun that it was early morning. If only he had thought of that earlier, he wouldn't be in this situation!

A woman stepped out of the alleyway Solembum had stepped out of earlier. She had wild curly hair, eyes that seemed to flash in the morning sun and a grey dress with a red cape. A strange looking sword was at her hip...it was made from no substance Edwin had ever seen. Solembum was at her heels.

"What do we have here?" the woman asked merrily. "I am glad that someone had the guts to stand up to this twit, Arkwrite. He's a bully he is."

"I didn't exactly have a choice. I tried to talk to him and he attacked me!" Edwin protested.

The woman frowned. "What is the world coming to? Boy starving on the streets, too weak to move. Next day, same boy holding 'lord' Arkwrite against his will in the middle of the street. Same 'lord' left speechless. World's going made I think...it's Nasuada. Honestly, monitoring magic users...what on Alagasia was she thinking?" Edwin stared at her, confused.

"Sorry miss...I don't know what you are on about."

"And you expect me to enlighten you? What a funny phrase that...enlighten...surely it would mean to light something up? But we use it to describe people being told things...interesting..."

Edwin looked at Solembum desperately. The werecat looked at him, and then proceeded to clean his whiskers. "Who...who are you, miss?" Edwin asked.

The woman laughed. "If you seek my true name, you must look elsewhere. But you can call me Angela."

Solembum looked up at Edwin again. _This is the herbalist I told you about._

Edwin sighed. _Great._

Angela grinned at him. "Now, Solembum here told you to go to Arya, did he not?" Edwin nodded. "Then why aren't you there?"

Edwin looked at Arkwrite. "I got...busy."

Angela nodded. "Yes, being busy can interfere with many things. You could be knitting a good pair of mittens, and then someone comes along and bothers you. By the time your through with them, you forget what you're doing."

"Has that ever happened to you?"

Angela shook her head, laughing. "I never forget what I am doing." She marched up to Edwin and Arkwrite, and placed her hand on Arkwrite's broad head. "Slytha."

Arkwrite's eyes rolled up inside his head and he went limp. Edwin couldn't hold him up anymore, and dropped his lifeless form on the ground.

"Did you kill him!" Edwin yelled, more of a shout than a question.

Angela looked at him "Why do you care? He attacked you." She sighed. "I didn't kill him. He's sleeping."

Edwin nodded...he could now see the steady rise and fall of the man's chest.

"Well...off you go then! Go to Arya now!" Angela walked down the street, Solembum at her heels.

Edwin watched them, then looked back at Arkwrite. He couldn't leave Arkwrite there-a horse could trample him. He grabbed him by the arms and dragged him over to a nearby wall...the one where Edwin had slept so often. It took a good portion of time moving the dead weight of the overweight man.

When Edwin finally managed to prop him up against the wall-he finally concluded that the man had to be half laying down, because he couldn't get him to sit up straight-he looked up at the sky again. The sun had barely moved...if it had moved at all. Edwin smiled. He still had enough time...more than enough time. He turned and sprinted down the street, but he couldn't run any further. His muscles just weren't used to it and they hadn't been used in a long time. He settled for a slow jog the rest of the way, making his way to the square slower than he would have liked to.

He reached the square in more than enough time. There were tents already set up, in case an egg hatched-the new rider could be swiftly taken into the tent while their egg hatched. Edwin had heard that each egg took a different amount of time to hatch. It was probable that the dragons would hatch quickly because of how long they had been in their eggs, but it might still take a while. The rider should also be in almost constant contact with the egg as it was hatching, to ensure a strong bond between dragon and rider. However, Edwin didn't believe this because it was common knowledge that Eragon and Saphira had not been in contact with each other when Saphira hatched, and their bonds was one of the strongest ever.

He looked desperately around the square, searching for the elfin queen. The square was deserted, and he began to think he had got the wrong place when a thunderous roar echoed above him. He looked up and yelped as a wall of green gems descended upon him. He turned and ran. His flee was quickened when he was clipped across the back, sending him hurtling across the square. He hit the floor and rolled, coming to a stop by a wall.


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. Third chapter up already, within how many days of publishing? I don't know. But I enjoy writing them, and I hope you enjoy reading them. **

**Disclaimer-I don't own the characters from the Inheritance series, they belong to Christopher Paolini. **

* * *

Edwin woke, groaning. It really didn't seem like his day. His eyes flickered open, to see an elegant young woman standing over him. She had slanted green eyes, like a cats, and long black hair. Her face was rather pointed, and seemed smoother than humans. Her features seemed to flow more. She was watching him anxiously.

"I am sorry." She said in a voice as smooth as her features. "Fírnen didn't mean to hit you...or nearly land on you. I informed him that the landing was clear...I didn't see you."

"F...Fírnen?" he asked.

"My dragon." She replied.

He nodded and pushed himself into a sitting position. His back hurt like an urgal had head butted it. Something suddenly clicked inside his head...Fírnen...that was the dragon who belonged to...Queen Arya. His head shot up to the woman. She was clearly elfin and he now recognised her clearly...she had been to many meetings with Queen Nasuada. He tried to stand up, but a burst of pain flew across his back and he had to use the wall as a support. "Queen Arya..." he coughed before beginning again. "Queen Arya of the elves, Shadeslayer, Shur'tugal and DragonKiller." He bobbed his head. "I beg your forgivness for getting in the way of your noble dragon."

Arya smiled kindly. "Fírnen is many things, but noble? I am not so sure."

A huge presence entered Edwin's mind, and a voice arose from it, deep and booming. _Noble? Of course I am Arya, and this fine hatchling can see that of me clearly._

Edwin looked around, just as the dragons large, green head swung into his line of vision from behind a huge tent. From the size of the dragons head, he wondered how he could fit behind the test.

The dragon seemed to smile at him. _Hatchling, what is your name?_

"Edwin, and what is yours?" he already knew the answer, but it seemed only polite to ask the dragon.

The dragons eyes sparkled with amusment. _I think you already know that, Edwin. But my name is Fírnen, the last dragon in Alagasia._

"I...I thought there were two other dragons left alive...there were four until Shruikan was killed." Arya winced.

Fírnen shook his head sadly. _No, my mate Saphira left with her rider Eragon to find a safe place for new riders. The sad-hearted-dragon-traitor -Thorn left with his rider, Murtagh, to find a kinder place. I am alone, until another dragon hatches. Even then I will be alone while they train with Saphira._

Edwin looked into the green dragons eyes, seeing that they were a different colour to his scales. They were bright amber. And, at the moment, they were full of sadness. Edwin wondered what it must be like to know that you are the only one of your kind, and that the others had left you. "I...I'm sorry."

The dragons eyes sparkles again, the sadness fading. _Don't be, little one. I am content to be this way...for the moment. Will you do me one favour though?_

Edwin nodded enthusiastically. "Anything!"

Fírnen laughed. _Don't mention the killing of Shruikan again, if you will. My rider is greatly ashamed of what she did, and has spent every waking moment with the pain of it in her head. She has no need to be reminded._

Edwin tilted his head sideways and nodded. He could understand why Arya was ashamed of what she did. "Why are you here, Edwin?" asked Arya. "And why are you so thin? I could see right through you, if I tried."

Edwin licked his lips, suddenly feeling slightly scared. Though they were kind, he didn't know these two at all. However...Solembum wanted him to talk to Arya, and Solembum had given him a chance of new life. He trusted Solembum...and he hoped that the werecat wasn't just teasing him with a chance of a better life.

"In, the war..." he began "I left my family. I...ran out to...to...fight the Varden." Arya looked at the floor. "I soon saw that the Varden had a purpose...they had a point. Galbatorix was cruel to us poorer folk. He...was crazy. He needed to be killed." Arya smiled, as if she were happy that there was confirmation that the Varden had done the right thing. "I changed sides. I fought for the Varden in the end, and then they won. I doubt I was much of a help though...maybe more of a hindrance. I didn't want to kill people!" tears formed in his eyes. " At the end of the battle, I went home. My house had been destroyed. My mother...my father...my little sister...they had all been crushed." Tears fell from his eyes. "I fought, they died, I had no home, no family and no possessions other than a blood stained knife and blood drenched clothes. I managed to salvage new trousers from the wreckage of the house, and I threw my top away as soon as I can. That was my first mistake...blood soaked or not, it would have provided warmth." He looked down at his dirt encrusted bare chest. "I sold my knife and shoes to pay for food...though that didn't last long. I was starving, and then yesterday a werecat started talking to me." Arya's eyes widened and she looked at Fírnen. "he found me interesting and gave me strength. He told me to come here and talk to you. This morning I thought 'why not?' and I came." He missed out his encounter with Arkwrite. He had already said enough. Tears were falling from his eyes and he raised his hand to wipe them away, smudging more dirt across his face.

"Did...did this werecat tell you their name?" Arya asked, still looking at Fírnen.

Edwin nodded. "He said his name was Solembum."

Arya sighed. "I thought so." She smiled at Edwin. "Solembum does everything for a reason. He wanted you to come here for something...either to see me, or to try for a dragon egg." She gestured at the tent, "do you want to try?"

Edwin nodded, licking his lips again. His throat hurt from talking for so long. "But...I am scared it won't work. I will look stupid."

Arya smiled. "You won't. It really doesn't matter, I promise." She helped him stand up without support of the wall. She was tall, taller than the average man. She was taller than Arkwrite. She was a lot taller than Edwin. She frowned at Edwin. "How old are you?"

"I am twelve your majesty. Nearly thirteen...it's my birthday soon."

Arya shook her head sadly. "What is the world coming to when there are twelve year olds fighting in wars and dying on the streets?"

Edwin wasn't sure how to answer. "I don't know, your majesty."

She laughed, a high pitched, tinkling noise. It made Edwin smile. "Please, call me Arya." She led him over to the tent, pushing open the flap. She led him to the dark interior. "Garjzla," she whispered, and a light flooded the small canvas room. Fírnen stuck his head in the door.

Edwin gasped- there were four, perfectly smooth stones set out onto a small wooden table. _No_, he thought. _Not stones...eggs!_ His eyes widened at the beauty of them. They were perfectly round, without a single blemish on them. He approached slowly, Arya watching. One of the eggs was pure white, and as he looked closer he could see veins of cream running through it. Another was a dark purple, with violet lines spreading across the surface. Another was orange, with pale amber veins flowing across it. The last was a bright yellow-green, that almost seemed to glow in the dark. He had seen this colour before...on a butterfly. He recalled a memory of trying to catch a yellow-green butterfly, and his mother telling him not to. He missed completely, but his mother clipped him around the ear for trying. She said that the butterfly was a free creature, and deserved to live its short life on the wind, not in a jar. He recalled it was called a Brimstone butterfly.

He wasn't sure which to touch first, and turned his head to glance at Arya. She gestured that he proceeded with touching the eggs. He swallowed, unsure what one to touch. They were all so pretty...

He reached out towards the white one first. His fingers danced across it, grazing the shell. But this eggs wasn't his...he could feel it. He moved on to the next, the purple. He laid his hand on the surface of the shell, but before he could even touch it he knew this one was also wrong. It was as if the dragons inside were screaming "No! Not you!" at him. They were just...wrong. He skimmed his hand across the orange one, not at all hopeful. This one didn't want him either. He turned to face the yellow-green one, which was on the far end of the table. He was sure with all his being that this one was right...he wanted it to be right. There was something about it...he already felt attached to it because of the memory the colour triggered. He approached it slowly, almost cautiously. He lay both his hands on it, and picked it up. It was perfect in every way. It had small greeny brown veins running across it, like the butterfly. As he held it, he heard a small cracking sound. He knew it was his egg...it had chosen him, just as he had chosen it. He sighed with happiness and relief.

Arya came up behind him, a beaming smile on her face. "Let's get you elsewhere then." She led him and his egg out of the tent and into another nearby. This one was big enough for Fírnen to fit into...Edwin guesses this was because he wanted to witness the hatching of another dragon. There was a huge crowd outside the tents...Edwin didn't realise how long he had been inside with the eggs. The crowd groaned with disappointment when they saw his egg...they knew it must be hatching if he was holding it.

Arya, Edwin and Fírnen entered the large tent. There was a large wooden bench that was more than wide enough to lie down on without fear of falling off. He sat on it and placed the egg next to him, his right hand still resting on it. Arya crouched in front of him.

"What will you call your dragon?" Edwin stared at her and shrugged. How was he to know? He didn't even know if the dragon was a boy or a girl.

Arya nodded at him knowingly. He had a feeling she already knew what gender the dragon was. "That's how I felt when Fírnen hatched for me...I had no idea what to do. I loved him instantly, but I must warn you in advance. The bonding can be painful at first, and the feeling of your mind fusing with another is daunting." Edwin nodded, not really listening.

Fírnen swung his head round to watch the egg. _You chose a good colour,_ he snorted.

Edwin smiled. The colour didn't match Fírnen's green, but it was still a green.

There was a resounding _snap!_ That filled the tent, and a crack as wide as a hair spread across the shell of the egg. A piece of the shell fell away, revelling a greenish membrane inside. More of the egg fell away, and a small yellow-green dragon poked its head up out of the egg. A bit of the shell got caught on its head and rested there, giving it the appearance of wearing a small hat. It chirped from its mouth, an immensely happy sound. It clambered out of the shell and licked the membrane off its scales. When it finished, it looked around and wiggled along the bench towards Edwin. It was the same shade of yellow-green as the shell, exactly the colour of the Brimstone butterfly from a distant memory. The scales on its head gradually deepened into a slightly darker green, a shade lighter than Fírnens' scales that spread across his back. The scales lightened into a pale yellow colour by the end of its tail, and the scales visible on its tummy were a shade or two darker than the Brimstone butterfly. The dragon tripped, squeaking, and opened its wings. They were a beautiful pale greenish yellow, as if sunlight were permanently shining through them.

Edwin had never seen anything more beautiful.

He reached out with his right hand to the dragon..._his_ dragon...and patted it on the head, knocking the shell off its head. And icy sea of fire roared up his arm and flooded his mind, knocking him into unconscious. He hoped he didn't fall on his dragon.

* * *

**A.N. Now, we have a greenish-yellow dragon. You may think that's a horriable colour (I love all colours, so I have no problem with it) but if you do, google Brimstone Butterfly and look on a picture of it. That is the colour of Edwins' dragon, and I think it's a beautiful colour. If you are too lazy too google it yourself, here is a link to google images of it. . /search?q=what+are+all+the+colours+ever&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=w_tUUuCnBeHF0QXb3YCACw&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAQ&biw=927&bih=715&dpr=1#q=brimstone+butterfly&tbm=isch**

**Now, I have a few names in mind for Edwins' dragon. But I want to see if you have any ideas. If you have a suggestion, give me a comment with the name. I would like it to be in the Ancient Language though. **

**Trivia for you-who is Arya refering to when she wrote about "A lonely God, adrift on a sea of time." in Brisingr, when she has gone to look for Eragon? **


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